The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
The news that Carlos and Cynthia had vanished threw the entire villa into chaos.
Military police and soldiers scoured the premises and combed the surrounding forest.

Valeria, whose marriage with Carlos was being arranged, responded with lukewarm indifference. After all, she had already witnessed the two embracing.
“Isn’t this just a misunderstanding? I’m sure the siblings just snuck away to spend some time together.”
As the Prime Minister’s daughter, she had nothing to fear and voiced her thoughts freely.

A few who knew the rumors swirling around Cynthia and Carlos exchanged subtle glances but said nothing.
Helene wore a worried expression, deep in thought.
‘Edford, maybe—but Carlos? He’s not the kind of man to elope for love. Is there something I don’t know?’

Meanwhile, Masera hadn’t shown the letter he found in the room to anyone, so the soldiers operated under the assumption that it might have been a kidnapping.
Masera headed into the woods with a search team.
‘If it was a kidnapping, then someone on the inside must’ve helped.’

Captain Declan, who had always shown open hostility toward Cynthia, had also been invited to the villa.
‘No. I can’t start doubting my own comrades.’
But then, what should he be doubting?

Remembering the letter’s contents, he felt a flash of rage. His mouth went dry with bitterness.
Masera shook his head, pushing away useless possibilities.
‘Even if—on the off chance—they ran away… I won’t let her go.’

He still needed her.
Even if he had to keep her locked away, he wouldn’t let her slip from his grasp.
Masera climbed the tallest hill and stared into the distance.
His pupils sharpened as they locked onto something in the far-off dark.

“A cart drawn by two horses. Heading west.”
Masera had vision that far exceeded what ordinary humans could imagine—he could make out subtle movements even in the dark.
He raised his sniper rifle and marked several trees with shots.

“…Toward Kint Village.”
* * *
I jolted awake with a chill running through me.

The musty smell of stone and the damp cold of the walls seeped into my body.
“Ugh?”
I was in a dark basement.

My wrists ached—tied together with rope.
What the hell? I’d taken the medicine the maid gave me and fallen asleep…
A kidnapping, then.

It only took me ten ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ seconds to understand the situation. I spotted a figure leaning against the wall under a cloth hood.
Judging by his clothes and build, it was Carlos.
“Hey.”

I nudged him and pulled the cloth off.
“Mm…”
He grimaced, slowly coming to.

He looked around, then frowned uncomfortably.
“Cynthia… we’ve been kidnapped.”
“I know.”

Probably the Free Council or some other group.
I let out a sigh.
“They’re not going to kill us.”

“And how do you know that?”
“If they meant to, we’d already be dead.”
They were probably going to ransom us off.

If they demanded money… what would Masera say? ‘Please raise her well.’ Maybe.
…Okay, no, definitely not.
I pressed my ear to the wall and tapped lightly.

“What are you doing?”
Carlos asked, but I just gestured for silence.
“We’re on basement level one.”

He gave me a look that basically said, How the hell do you know that?
Explaining would involve talking about my past life, so I decided not to bother.
How do we get out of here? I needed something I could use…

Sweeping my hair back, my fingers caught on something. I pulled it out—it was the hairpin I’d lost in the woods.
So the brigadier came and left it while I was asleep.
Such a crunchy-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside tsundere man.

I used the hairpin to pick open the rope around my wrists.
Carlos stared like, How the hell did she just do that? but I ignored him.
That aside… how did Carlos end up here too? I asked for details.

“I went to your room after receiving your note…”
“Why would I send you a note?”
He ran a hand through his hair, frowning.

“Now that I see this, it must’ve been a setup.”
“Did you see who took us?”
“The last thing I saw was a young red-haired woman. She must’ve snuck in disguised as a maid.”

So the medicine I took had been drugged. A sedative.
From the cold breeze sneaking in, we couldn’t have been taken very far.
Looking around the basement—probably a warehouse—I said,

“They’ll likely move us somewhere else tomorrow. Maybe even at dawn.”
“Where?”
“Someplace the military can’t reach.”

Right now, we had no intel. Escaping blindly would be too risky.
“Do you have matches?”
Carlos fumbled with his bound hands and pulled out a matchbox from his coat.

Let’s start gathering information, then.
I balled up a loose piece of paper and tossed it to the floor, then struck a match and set it on fire.
Carlos’s eyes widened.

“Are you insane?! You’ll burn us alive!”
“Nope. I won’t die. I’m worth too much.”
Soon, flames began to rise with smoke.

I took a deep breath and shouted,
“Fire!”
Then pounded on the door with all my might.

“Open this door right now! We’re going to burn to death!”
I stood at the ready with the hairpin in hand.
If no one came, that meant there were no guards—and I’d open it myself.

Soon, I heard footsteps. I quickly retreated and sat back down, pretending my hands were still tied.
The door burst open.
“Ugh, I smell smoke!”

Three men came rushing down the stairs with buckets of water.
Behind them was the red-haired woman Carlos had mentioned.
“Why is there a fire?”

“There’s a box of fireworks stored in the back, but… no sign of any explosion.”
I glanced toward the stacked boxes and swallowed hard.
Fireworks? That could’ve ended very badly.

Thankfully, the fire wasn’t too large, and one bucket was enough to put it out.
I began trembling, sniffling like a terrified damsel.
“Please… please don’t hurt us. I’ll pay anything you want…”

I wanted them to drop their guard by making me look weak.
The woman sneered down at me.
“Hah, typical. A royal raised in a palace. Just wait until your dear husband pays your ransom—and your brother’s.”

Seriously? A two-for-one deal?
I turned to Carlos in disbelief.
After the kidnappers left, I sat back down and calmly began planning.

The chill from the stone floor made me shiver. Of course I had to be kidnapped in my pajamas.
Carlos noticed me coughing and draped his coat over my shoulders.
“You okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. But how did you get your coat off with your hands tied?”
“It was hanging off my shoulders. You really don’t pay attention to me.”
I turned away with a pout and pulled the coat tighter.

Classic locked-room setup.
I figured Carlos was about to say something emotional and serious, so I preemptively changed the tone to an escape-genre plot.
“From what I learned during that fire, there are probably five or six people here. They’re operating in a skeleton crew.”

But Carlos sat down beside me, trying to shift the genre back again.
“Cynthia. I understand you’re angry, but marrying another woman wasn’t my choice—”
“Better conserve your energy for the escape.”

“Like I said, if we’re ever going to be together—”
“I think we’re in Kint Village. There’s a label on one of the boxes from a fireworks factory.”
Carlos kept pressing for a serious conversation, but I held my ground with the stoic tone of a seasoned escape-artist protagonist.

“Cynthia, could you untie me too?”
“No.”
Men and women have boundaries, thank you very much.

* * *
How much time passed?
When the chill of predawn deepened, the door opened and someone tossed in a bucket of warm water.

As Carlos reached for it, I stopped him and poured it out.
“Don’t drink it.”
“Why not?”

“They probably drugged it. Looks like we’re getting moved soon.”
Before dawn—the darkest part of the night—was the best time to relocate prisoners.
I loosely tied my own hands, just enough to look secure, and leaned against the wall with my eyes closed.

“Act like you’re asleep. People will be here soon.”
Carlos followed my lead, closing his eyes.
A short while later, we heard the door open and people entering.

“No need to put them in crates?”
“We laced them with strong sedatives. They’ll be out for at least three hours. Just throw a sheet over them.”
“Then I’ll just lock the cargo door.”

Their voices trailed off, and I felt my body being lifted.
We were tossed into the back of a wagon.
Inside the closed cart, cold snowflakes drifted in through the cracks in the wooden panels. Beside us, crates of fireworks were stacked high.

I sat up and gave Carlos a nudge.
“Operation Escape begins now.”